The Aurora Borealis, or northern lights, will be recreated using a special lighting projector in Howmet Playhouse's "Almost, Maine" next month.

WHITEHALL -- Speaking of Diane Klinefelter and the northern lights and snow falling indoors during the dog days of a waning West Michigan summer -- back to all that in a moment -- query this:

What are the odds that Libby "Amazing" Keenan will be immortalized in bronze outside Howmet Playhouse, the way baseball greats Ernie "Mr. Cub" Banks towers at Wrigley Field in Chicago and Stan "The Man" Musial stands at Busch Stadium in St. Louis?

Start with the fact that Diane Klinefelter had not been onstage at Howmet Playhouse since the 1960s.

Her four-decade hiatus ended when the Howmet Summer Theatre Festival dropped "The Underpants."

Nightly, from July 23-25, the 71-year-old Whitehall grandmother made cameo appearances in the Steve Martin comedy.

"And I got a line," Klinefelter exulted, "which I wasn't expecting."

Just as unsuspecting were the 65-70 guests who attended a July 5 party that Libby Keenan and her husband, Mike, hosted at their home overlooking White Lake.

The northern lights.

Libby Keenan did not play her hand in advance. Her invitations did not mention fundraising.

"After an hour of drinking a lot of wine," the Keenans sprang their glorious ambush. Auction bidding began, the prize being a walk-on role in "The Underpants."

When all was said and done, $4,200 was raised. The money will fund production costs for the second half of Howmet's current season.

Among the items is the rental of a special lighting projector that will enable Sarah Hebron, this season's technical director, to recreate the Aurora Borealis, aka the northern lights. The lights will be layered in different colors, with ribbons of light moving.

"It's the best way to make the effect we're looking for to look the best," Hebron says. She rented the projector from a studio in Brighton.

The northern lights figure into "Almost, Maine," a romantic comedy that Howmet will stage Aug. 6-8.

The natural light display in the night sky, named after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora, and the Greek name for north wind, Boreas, captivates some amorous residents of a New England hamlet. So does snow, a facsimile of which will drift down upon Howmet's proscenium stage.

Whether this calls for a bronze sculpture of Libby Keenan.

"She's amazing," says Jeff Sanders, the festival's artistic director, and one of four "Almost, Maine" actors. "I want to make a statue of her. That just saved our season in many ways."

Libby Keenan says it's simple: You put your money where your mouth is. Raising money for Howmet Playhouse is a way to support, and ensure the viability, of something she values.

"Everybody knows that's my baby," Keenan says of the historic playhouse. "When I take on a cause, I'm really into it."

The Keenans started getting into Howmet Playhouse about five years ago. They attended a production there and, while perusing the playbill, noticed that one of their neighbors was a top financial donor.

By the next season, Libby Keenan says, she and Mike topped the list.

Baskets came out July 5, for depositing checks and cash. Early bids started around $25 and worked up to $100, before two guests -- no doubt feeling their grapes -- each came up with $1,000.

No one who bid, though, wanted to go on stage.

Diane Klinefelter

Joanne Hatch and her husband, Mac, who is Whitehall's mayor, knew their friend Diane Klinefelter harbored no such reservations.

Her haired slicked back to lend her the appearance of being male, Klinefelter entered at the end of "The Underpants," as an attendant to the King of Germany (played by the show's director, Sanders). She spoke the now immortal line, "Please rise. Is this the home of Theo Maske?"

Exit.

"I love it," says Klinefelter, who four decades ago appeared in community theater productions at Howmet. "They told me there were no lines ... so they put a line in for me."

Not really: Sanders gave Klinefelter one of his lines.

The significance continues to go beyond the moment.

"I wanted to make sure the money went into the productions, not some general fund," says Libby Keenan, an accomplished tennis player who claims "I have no skills whatever" in the milieu of the performing arts. "Giving is a competitive sport."